


Dream Bubble Shenanigans

by brassfinch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Fingerfucking, Light Bondage, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brassfinch/pseuds/brassfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska finds that death isn't so bad - not if she has someone nice to share it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Bubble Shenanigans

John arose from his bed. Although sleep in this place still felt more or less familiar, he did not wake up the same as in his previous life. He remembered waking up in the past to be something that could require immense effort, something that came along with a bad taste in his mouth, sand in his eyes and drowsiness. Not so in the Dream Bubble. Here, waking up meant nothing. Sleep meant nothing. It was just a ritual they had decided to keep up, something to remind them both of the old life. Waking up here felt like he'd never slept at all. 

He rolled over but found the rest of the bed empty. Dazed, he got up and made his way towards the window.

It was snowing outside, as it often did in his Dream Bubble, and Vriska was out there, being extremely... active. Apparently she was making use of his swing set, trying her best to go higher and higher. Perhaps she was trying to make a full circle? Even on the swings, Vriska was overly ambitious.  
They had been talking all night - or, at least for a moment that seemed like night. There was no night or day here, he realized that now, thanks to her, and time didn't play by the same rules it used to. But whenever he was with her, time just passed differently, quicker, easier. As they talked they made their way through one another's worlds, switching back and forth between her hive and his house. They decided to settle at John's place. She said it felt cozy, with none of the baggage and associations of that awful hive of hers.  
Last night was the first time they slept together - fully clothed - crammed into a single bed, and this morning was the first time she'd left his side for even a moment. She'd been doing some exploring, poking around in the world of his subconsciousness, yet strangely, he didn't feel invaded. It would only be natural for her to do so.

John made his way down to the backyard through the utility room. Instantly a warm coat materialized around him as he made his way outside into the cold winter atmosphere. He could already hear her, cheering herself on. She was going dangerously high now, and he was concerned of her proximity to the edge nearby. He wasn't sure what would happen if she were to fall, but he rather wouldn't find out.

GT: hey!  
Vriska turned her head and saw him there, making his way over to her. A crooked smile pulled across her face.  
GT: vriska! please be...  
As if she'd been waiting for him, she swung magnificently, performing a perfect straight-rope 360° loop, screeching with delight as she did. She back-flipped from her seat and safely landed, almost like a professional gymnast.  
GT: ...careful? wow! that was...

Immediately she 8roke out into a small victory jig.

AG: Yeah!!!!!!!! Oh yeah! Who the 8est? I the 8est! You know it! You saw it!  
GT: heheheh, yeah...  
AG: And you were worried, too! Scared I couldn't do it! Proved you wrong! Proved you all wrong!  
GT: there's only me here, though. 

Not listening, she danced her way over to him, and sat down at his feet with a sigh. John joined her.

GT: you know, actually, i've always imagined doing that. i actually am kind of jealous!  
AG: 8eat you to it, didn't I?  
GT: well, i almost made it once. came all the way up to the first floor window. but dad, being the semi-responsible parent he tries to be, put a stop to it.  
GT: parents, huh?  
AG: So, think you can 8eat me? It took me a8out ten minutes, I think. We can have a race, see who can do it first!  
GT: i'm not really big into swinging anymore. that's all in the past for me.  
AG: Is it 8ecause of the time you fell off trying to do what I just did? And you hit your head pretty 8ad?  
GT: ummm  
GT: how did you know that?  
GT: ...as if i don't know how!  
AG: I'm sorry John, I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist poking around in your little memories. Let's just pretend I didn't see every em8arassing detail and you still have some form of privacy.  
GT: i'm actually totally okay with it! i just think i should feel violated, but i really don't.  
AG: Is that so?

They kept talking for a while again. John's mind kept going back to the time they spent in bed not too long ago. How her hand had come to rest against its back, and how, even if she was an alien space ghost, it almost felt pleasantly warm to the touch.

Although Vriska wasn't used to the way John was treating her, she'd grown more or less accustomed to it. His compliments were all heartfelt, she knew that, and she knew it was in his weak human nature to do it. It made her feel special. This human d8, which just seemed to go on forever, wasn't so bad after all. She had no idea if or when it was going to end, let alone where this was going with the two of them, so she just decided to play along and make the best of it.  
Making their way inside and out of the blistering cold, she began to think this death thing wasn't such a bad deal. She was in a dream, a dream with one of the nicest guys she'd ever known, able to do whatever they wanted. She just kept waiting for something terrible to happen, bursting the bubble, for everything to reset and for John to lose his memories of her again. But so far nothing of the kind had happened. It seemed luck was still on her side, somewhat.

She estimated the time they had spent together must be the equivalent of about three regular months. Although at one point they just sort of... ran out of stuff to talk about and things almost became awkward, as she had experienced before with many others, with John she somehow just managed to keep talking, keep finding stuff to do and keep each other occupied. Even if it was the dumbest shit imaginable. It was then that she realized John was something special, even though she hadn't really figured out what kind of "special". Over time, they had begun to openly show their affection, having kissed for the first time only a week earlier. It was nothing much, just a quick peck on the cheek from her to him in the middle of a conversation, but it naturally meant the start of a new beginning. The day after, having broken the ice, they kissed again during a Nicholas Cage movie marathon, the sheer amount of Cage probably having become too much for poor Vriska. And it was a little more explicit, too. It was something she thought about constantly, as did he, and it gave her a warm, glowing feeling in her chest. This was going the right way, she was sure of that.

They retreated into the living room, where it was warm and pleasant. She liked it, despite the small effigies of miniature subjugglators placed throughout the room. Luckily John hated them as well, except he called them "Harlequins". They had tried removing them but for some reason the room always reset them in a while.  
Eventually, they came to the subject of ancestors.

AG: What a8out your ancestors, John? Do you have someone like that?  
GT: well, there's dad and nanna, i suppose. and grandpa.  
AG: No, no, no. From what I've heard they've 8een more like custodians to you. Huh, I guess you don't treat your ancestors like we do.  
GT: i suppose not.  
AG: Don't you have someone you want to model your life after? Someone heroic, an idol? Someone who really sets the example?  
GT: i suppose we get our heroes from fiction.  
GT: like, there's nic cage, of course. if there's anyone i'd want to be like, it would be him.  
GT: that should be obvious  
AG: Uhuh.  
GT: dad was cool, but i don't think i would have wanted to become exactly like him. and i don't think he would have wanted that, either.  
GT: in a way us humans always try to have it better than our parents did.  
GT: so its not really idolization. i guess that means i only have fictional idols. like cage!  
AG: 8ut he has no connection to you, John. He doesn't share your 8lood, he's not, what do you call it… he's not family.  
AG: Although, may8e, you do sorta resem8le a waaaaaaaay younger version of him........  
GT: you think so?  
AG: Sure!  
AG: 8ut, as I said, all you have is admiration, no connection.  
AG: I used to have such a connection, as you know.  
GT: that ancestor lady you mentioned?  
AG: Yes. Do you remember her name?  
GT: uh, something-mind-something. mary mindshatter?  
AG: Marquise Spinneret Mindfang.  
GT: ah.  
AG: She was a pirate, and a leader, and this hugely important figure, way, way 8ack.  
AG: It was just so profound, you know? We had this connection, through time, that ran deeper than that 8etween a role-model and her emulator.  
GT: that sounds pretty deep.  
AG: It was. And it had always 8een my goal to 8ecome her true successor. And I would do it, I could, if not for my… untimely death.  
AG: I could have reached that peak and, in a way, 8ecome her. 

As the impassioned troll girl again told John about her infatuation with Mindfang, her clothes began to change and shift. She didn't seem to notice it, but John watched it all happen, spellbound. Her coat transformed into this incredibly badass black dress-thing, with dark blue highlights. It looked sinister, stylish and hardcore, and for some reason John thought it looked just perfect on her.

GT: whoa, look, your clothes!  
AG: Oh hey! Cool! This is it, this is her outfit! Mindfang's, I mean.  
GT: holy shit, i think that has to be the coolest outfit i've ever seen!  
GT: it reminds me of some of the old video games i told you about, you know, the fantasy kind.  
GT: pretty badass...  
AG: Thanks!  
AG: 8ut wait........  
AG: How does this keep happening?  
GT: ??  
AG: This random materialization of things. Do we just… think stuff into existence, orrrrrrrr........ ?  
GT: beats me, actually. these things just sort of happen.  
AG: 8ut it's always something we're thinking a8out. Quick, try it!  
GT: ???  
GT: you mean, uh, think of something? i think of stuff all the time, i don't think anything's just… appeared out of thin air before  
AG: Just try. I'll think of something too.

Vriska closed her eyes and concentrated. She reminded John of the scene in Peter Pan, where Wendy first attempted to fly by thinking happy thoughts. So far, nothing seemed to be happening.  
Joining in, John tried to think of something specific. Perhaps it worked like in Peter Pan too, that only happy thoughts worked, something he really liked, something dear to him. Vriska had this ancestor, apparently, and Flarp. What do I like, thought John? What's my favorite thing to do?

Vriska was concentrating. A myriad of thoughts flashed through her mind, but she couldn't manage to narrow it down to one or two specific thoughts. What thoughts counted? Only significant ones? Or perhaps thoughts of the past?  
Her stream of thoughts were cut short by something striking her head. Startled, she yelped, stumbled back, waved her arms around, tripped on the carpet and fell flat on her butt. Dazed, she felt her head, and immediately her fingers sank into a cold, slimy mucus. It ran all the way down her face, through her hair, down onto her lips. "Pffpfpppfff!" she went, trying to get whatever it was away from her mouth, but she couldn't stop some of it from getting inside. Immediately a strong sugary flavor rolled over her tongue. Wiping her eyes, she got up and stared at her hands, covered in what looked like white cream.  
Whatever had struck her was still sitting on her head, she could feel it, and swiftly she reached up and removed it, raising it up to her face to inspect it. It was an aluminum pie tin.

She'd been pied. In the face.

Perplexed, she looked over at John, who still had his eyes closed, unwittingly imagining pies into existence. John the trickster.  
She noticed other shapes materializing in the air above her, hovering like flying saucers. A swarm of pies waiting to drop. She flinched.

AG: Hey!

She stepped forward and punched John in the shoulder.

AG: Quit it, Eg8ert!  
GT: wuh!?

The materializing pies in the air vanished again. Opening his eyes, John was startled, then perplexed, then thoroughly entertained by the white creamy ticked-off face scowling at him. He burst into giggles, and Vriska was not amused by his reaction.

AG: Heeeeeeeey! Cut it out!  
GT: i'm sorry! i'm so sahahahaha  
AG: Come on! What is this stuff????????  
GT: hee hee, hoo hoo, i'm sorry, i'm- OW HEY!

Vriska punched him again, in the exact same spot as before. She wiped away the remaining goo as John pulled himself together.

GT: haha, it's okay, i'm fine, i'm sorry.  
AG: How'd you do it?  
GT: huh??  
AG: This is what you were thinking a8out, right? How'd you pull it off?  
GT: i dunno, i just thought about pranking, pies, about something i liked doing. and then this happened. it's like in that movie, peter pan  
AG: Peter what? Oh god, not you too…  
GT: uh, it's a long story. lets just say special things happen when you think happy thoughts.  
AG: Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept.  
GT: well, maybe, this is how it works? perhaps this is one of the rules of this place.  
AG: So I just think a8out something I'd like to do? That's it? I don't know, I couldn't even get a single-

PAP!  
Something smacked her on the ass. Her eyes widened as her body froze up. She stuck out her ass and turned her head to see what it was, and she could just vaguely make out the shape of a tin pie bottom sticking to her rump. White, foamy cream ran down her legs.

Wiping the tin from her ass, she slowly turned back to John. He looked just about ready to burst with laughter.  
It was the look on her face that did it. He sank to the floor, laughing.

AG: JOOOOOOOOHN!!!!!!!!  
GT: heeee hee hee hee hoo hoo hooo!!!  
AG: Uuuuuuuugh!

Out of nowhere, John felt a strange sensation tightening around his limbs, constraining him, breaking his laughing fit. Confused, he looked around to see… ropes? No… too shiny, too organic to be ropes. It was… was it silk?

AG: Two can play that game!  
GT: heheh, uh, vriska? um, what are we doing?  
AG: Oh, nothing, just um, making you pay, is all.  
AG: Teach you not to mess with me, and such.

Her heart skipped a beat as her mind began to wander, thinking of all the directions this scenario could take. Tying up this adorable boy she met. It made her feel wrong, in all the right ways.

GT: uh, heh, well um, cool that you've um, mastered the art of materializing stuff, i guess.  
AG: Yeah.  
GT: could you, um, please, loosen this up a little?

A new strand of silk wrapped around his waist and pulled him tightly against the ground.

AG: No, John. 

His hands were tied together and moved to his back. Wow, he thought. This is a little much. And at the same time, so did she. Was she rushing this again? Was this going to go wrong, like the previous times? Was she coming on too strong?  
No. Stop doubting. This is different. He is different, you are different. Surely you've waited long enough.

"Why aren't you just imagining them away, John????????" she heard herself say. "If it bothers you so much…"  
"i, uh," John stammered, but suddenly manned up, unafraid. It was the kind of bravery she'd hoped to see, the kind she'd missed in the past. There was heroism in this boy. "i'm just um, waiting to see" he said.  
"See what?"  
"where you're going… with… this…" he uttered.  
Oh my god, he likes it, she thought with a feeling of both relief and excitement. He liked this manipulation, this lack of control. He is letting me do this.  
One particularly thick strand was wrapping itself around his upper leg, dangerously close to that certain area that always became particularly warm whenever she got too close to him. It pulled tight, massaging. John squirmed, uttered a noise, a noise she thought was too cute for a boy to make.

She moved in closer to the little scene she was directing on the floor. She made sure not to wrap him up too tight in certain areas, but not too loosely either. She was moving him around, manipulating him, wrapping him up like a Christmas present. John was genuinely nervous at first, but seemed to have found the bravery to surrender himself, and she was glad he did. A bulge began to form on his crotch, just like it did sometimes, when he slept. Oh yes. She was going to go all the way, and her heart was pounding like mad.  
A slight breeze startled her. Looking down, she realized she had been wearing that accursed fairy dress for a while now. This stupid thing? Why was it coming back? Was it a sign? Was it all going to happen all over again?  
Having broken her concentration, John lunged forward and broke free from his bonds, wielding an heroic sword which he'd probably materialized to free himself. She stumbled and fell back, tenderizing her ass further. For a moment she saw him take on the form of Cameron Poe, tall and confident and full of mangrit, as if he'd stepped right out of her posters in her great Cage-shrine, but he instantly changed it back, visibly thinking "no, wait, this is stupid". Before she could object, John took control of her own grasping silken strands, and sent them after her, allowing her only a fraction of a second to dodge out of the way. Before she realized, she was flying in the air on her fairy wings, swirling gracefully to avoid his assault. They were both just giggling like the children they were, having discovered a new way to… have fun.  
One strand managed to latch on to one of her fake wings, popping it off as she spun out of control, heading straight towards one of the walls. Shocked and bracing for impact, Vriska was instead apprehended gently yet firmly by her own hijacked silk, which quickly and effectively proceeded to wrap her up. 

AG: *pant* You're pretty good at - *pant* - immo8ilization! I've taught you well - *pant* - young student.  
GT: well, you have taught me much about being a troll, perhaps it's time i… apply some of that knowledge.  
AG: Oh my! You wouldn't dare, 8oy Skylark.

She grinned defiantly. But as the silken stickiness of the strands began to take hold of her bare legs, bare arms and gently coiled around her bare neck, playfully squeezing it, her thoughts were stifled, her will broken. 

AG: Y… you wouldn't… dah… dare…

John just stared, spellbound, at what he made happen before him. He was still in a visibly excited state, but the playful grin had fallen from his face. He seemed more hypnotized by the shape of that young, slender body ensnared before him, this cute but troubled alien-space-ghost-spider-troll-fairy girl caught in her own web. The smooth gray tinge of her skin, her small fangs appearing as she parted her lips, her long, beautiful black hair, those soft blue lips that always curled into that unique razor-sharp grin that managed to both endear and slightly frighten him. All of them enthralled him. He had her, controlled her, like she'd done to him. And that's where he ran into trouble.

Because John wasn't brave like her. They were going down a road that took courage, a road he was sure Vriska could walk effortlessly, and he was willing to go along as long as she was there to lead him. But she wanted more, she made that clear. And now it was his turn, the ball was in his court, yet he just stood there like a rabbit in her headlights. Doubting and undermining himself, his thoughts escalated from small to major insecurity, as his face shifted from that of blank, zoned-out arousal, to realization, to nervousness - and the more he regressed the more his control over her began to fade. 

Vriska arose from his bonds almost effortlessly, and a sharp grin carved its way across her face. She had sensed his power, sensed his will and determination, but it had failed him. However, this was far more than she had ever gotten from her previous love-interest, the one she could not forget and whose memories kept coming back to haunt her, the one she couldn't help but compare this to.  
Instantly she pounced upon him, fastening him to the floor, knocking over one of the Harlequin pedestals and smashing its statue on the floor into a million fragments. He lay defeated, immobilized, making a half-hearted attempt to escape which was foiled by her iron grip. She crept up to him, laid herself on top of him, playfully cradling his face. Her visage, only an inch away from his, showed pure excitement and a distinct dark blue blush filling her cheeks. The tip of her tongue peeked out through her sharp-toothed grin.

AG: 8old move, Eg8ert.  
She sniffed his hair, ran her fingers through it.  
AG: 8ut it takes waaaaaaaay more than that to keep this girl down.  
For a moment, all John could do was whimper as her hand traveled from his face, down across his chest to places below he didn't even dare think of. He gasped, his buck-teeth digging into his lip, his cheeks flushing red.  
GT: huh, heheheheh, it's uh, it's not like that, i uh, i didn't really mean to… oh god oh god oh god  
John could break free from this spell, he could rise above himself and take charge. He could do it, she felt it. All he needed was the right incentive. So incentive is just what she gave him.

Having excitedly fondled his private area, she brought her hand back to her face and smelled it. It was a uniquely human smell, strong, but compared to some of the trolls she'd known this smelled sweet like candy and roses. She crept down, her eyes never leaving contact with his, as she settled over his pelvis. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth in a teasing manner, as she parted her lips, bit down on the fabric of his pants and began to undo them with her teeth, slowly but gracefully.  
Before long she had uncovered his most private feature. He felt layer after layer of clothing sliding off, until eventually it laid bare, in connection with the air surrounding them. John's breathing accelerated, his eyes squeezed shut. He tried moving his hands but he was weaker than ever before. He lay there, squirming, his embarrassingly erect penis exposed, completely immobile.

GT: oh god, huff, oh jeez…  
AG: So, this is your fa8led human 8one 8ulge, huh John?  
GT: i um, ok, yes, uh, can we um, stop right now, i mean, i don't know if i really want to, but maybe, you know, it would be best, i mean for us, if we just um  
AG: What, John?  
GT: if we just um, i mean i don't mean to be insulting but maybe it would be best for now if we AHHH

Her warm tongue slithered from the base of his erection, along the shaft, to the tip in one, long, continuous lick. He froze up and moaned. Her eyes looked as if she was possessed, her grin hungry. She had no idea how this thing worked, or what she was supposed to do with it, but the smell and sight of it activated something wild in her, and she just did what came natural. Resting her chest on his leg, he felt her heart pounding like crazy, almost as wildly as his own. It was pretty obvious she herself could not believe she was actually doing this.  
She began to utter satisfied little noises, sounds he hadn't heard her make before, since she was usually concerned with playing the tough girl. She was losing herself, and John realized he had to keep track of it and wait for the slightest window of opportunity to strike back, trying not to lose himself in the process as well.

Her tongue felt exceptionally long and slender - but perhaps it was only his imagination. The fictional aliens he was familiar with usually had some kind of weird organ or apparatus in their oral vicinity, he just assumed she did as well. But there was no way for him to be sure, because he sure as hell wasn't going to have a look. Just the thought of what was happening was too much for him, actually seeing it could result in an absolute overload. Her tongue crept and lapped, squirmed and swirled, rubbing up and down the sensitive silky skin of his erect cock.  
Vriska couldn't believe how smooth it was. The smell of it, pungent and hypnotic, was racing through her nostrils straight to her head, and the taste she could hardly describe. All she knew was she never wanted to taste anything else ever again. It was doing weird things to her head, blocking out thought and reason as if she was getting drunk on Sopor, but this definitely felt better.

As John began panting, she upped the speed. She was still monitoring him with one eye, trying to keep herself under control, but she was slipping. She pushed her lips to his skin, sucking while massaging his shaft with her tongue. She moved across his erection until she reached the tip, to which John began bucking his hips. 

AG: Ooooooooh, have I stumbled upon a special area? :::;)

Brushing her long hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, she took the tip of his penis in her mouth and shoved her head down along his shaft, taking it all in. An explosion of flavor overwhelmed her oral senses, and it was not John, but Vriska herself to let out the first moan, though not by much. Her tongue began rhythmically massaging, licking, sucking, and John was going crazy, thrashing his head from side to side, arching his back, clenching his fists, squirming his legs.  
And then he felt it. A surge in power, an ignition inside of him. What triggered it?  
Looking down, he saw her one free hand sliding under her dress, into a pair of small, black panties. She was beginning to touch herself, dropped her guard, distracted. The window of opportunity was now, and he would not disappoint her again. He would have her.

The shift in the balance of control was instantaneous. He was upon her in a split second, leaving her stunned and confused. Ropes had appeared to both tear his bonds away and to tie her down. She recognized them, they were the only ropes that he could think of - the ropes from his swing set. Frustratingly they pulled her hand away from her crotch and placed her in a safe and secure position.

Dazed, Vriska had trouble thinking straight. She was glad he had struck again, confident even in the face of an incoming orgasm, hoping this time he could pull through. But something was wrong. In her turned-on state she was trying to surrender herself to his unexpected attempt at dominance, trying to let it go, but her personality conflicted with this. This inner struggle only managed to confuse her even more. Along the way she decided that no, she was not like John, she could not surrender so readily. And as she realized this, the bonds that held her began to distress her, and her struggle became more genuine.

Just in time, a warm hand came down on her bare thigh, stroking it gently. The touch was almost electrifying. She froze up, tense, then slowly, she settled into a relaxed state. Her rapidly heaving chest, with erect nipples poking though her thin dress, slowed down as she resumed normal breathing. It was not necessarily a sexual caressing, although it did excite her in that special way - it was more of a soothing touch, something meant to calm her. He had obviously sensed her anxiety and moved in to relieve it. Conquered, she simply closed her eyes and slowly laid back.  
She felt his body as it moved up along side hers, pressed up against hers as his hand stroked up, gently pulling up her dress. Hesitantly, apologetically, his hand came to a stop shortly after. A gentle nudge of her hips signaled to him, approving of his maneuver, and so he continued, slowly but surely, to uncover her body. He traveled up, sliding along the contours of her chest, until her dress was hiked up to her neck, laying her bare but for a black pair of undies.

Now, John wouldn't realize this, as it's pretty safe to say this was the first boob he'd ever gotten, but Vriska's breasts were pretty undeveloped, more so than some of her peers (especially Terezi. Oh, how she envied the curves on that girl). She was, in human terms, pretty flat, even for a girl her age. And for a split second, as she caught John staring, she began feeling self-conscious and ashamed again, that terrible feeling that crept up on her sometimes. She parted her lips to say something, to apologize maybe, but before she could utter anything she was biting her lip, gripping the carpet, arching her back and trembling helplessly. He had reached out and casually stroked her left nipple, and it made her feel like warm electricity shot throughout her body, radiating from his touch and cramping her up. Though her chest was small, it was also exceptionally sensitive.

His fingers danced around her nipple, circled it. He nudged against it with his index finger, tweaked the tip of it with his fingertips. They responded by hardening, darkening, as if going into some sort of defensive position, but the more he tweaked the more sensitive they became. Without holding back, he leaned in, parted his lips and lapped at them with his tongue, sealing his lips around it, suckling gently. It became almost too much for her, and as she slipped into a state of aroused desperation she uttered a deep, throaty moan. Her crotch immediately responded by tingling enthusiastically, radiating a warmth that crept up to her underbelly, where it took root and spread to every inch of her body, from her head to her toes and from her chest to the tips of her fingers.  
However, again, her dominant inner self was stirring. This was an awfully submissive position for her to be in, too submissive perhaps, and her pleasurable cooing turned into a slight snarl, her lips pulling back to show her fangs. Her eyes, first closed gently, now squeezed shut as she scowled. He should be the one tied down like this, trembling at her mercy. It was a conflict between her old dominant self, her new, calmer self which John had awakened in her, and sheer, wild arousal.

At her wit's end, she decided to try that faithful old trick of hers. Mind control. She would simply put him down, make him crawl, ride upon him like he was an animal. "Go to sleep, boy." she thought. "Time for Mindfang to have some fun."

She erected herself in a burst of energy, freeing her hands and raising them up to her forehead, descending upon John to entrance him. But something was wrong. 

John just sat back, arms crossed, calmly smiling back at her. She poked around for a mind to control, but, to her surprise, found nothing to hold on to. She knew a human mind worked different from a troll's, she knew she had more limited control, yet she specifically remembered putting John to sleep once or twice in the past. His mind felt… palpable, somehow controllable, soft. But now, instead of reaching into his head and grabbing a handle ready to be manipulated, she only felt a wall, something too hard, flat and smooth to hold on to. The mangrit it emanated was incredible. How was it possible that he'd already mentally surpassed the old John she knew, even without going through all the trials and crucibles? Had his memories resurfaced? Or had their relationship made him stronger than before, had their being together fortified one another?

Shocked and taken aback, she dropped her guard. John embraced her, ready to once again take back control, and he did so almost without effort. Ropes came from the floor, bound her and forced her to the ground. The bonds were tighter and her position more awkward than before, with her face planted against the floor, hog-tied with her ass in the air. She was surprised by the sudden roughness, and once he was done with her, she was in an even worse position than before, her ass high in the air, exposed and sensitive, her small panties riding up into her wedge, two bare cheeks gleaming. She was about to undertake another attempt to escape, when suddenly a loud SMACK filled the room. She yelped as her ass suddenly tingled with a searing pain.

AG: ARG! Wh8t the h8ll are y8u doing Eg8- !!!!!!!!

Another flat hand swooped down and spanked her full on her cheeks. Again she yelped.  
"No", John calmly spoke. "Bad alien."  
And again. SMACK  
"Bad."  
SMACK  
"Alien."

AG: AAAUGH J8HN WH8T TH8........

Vriska could only squirm like some kind of restrained animal, confused, embarrassed, frustrated. She made an effort to turn her head, and saw John - different from his usual self. His posture was so different, she never realized how something as simple as a pose could change a person so much. It made him seem more than a kid - it gave him an air of confidence. His eyes were barely visible behind his reflective glasses in this light, blank but somehow eager, a crooked smile showing across his face. It was the sight of an authoritative custodian giving its rambunctious child a well-deserved and long-overdue punishment, and the idea turned her legs to jelly. It was mangrit she saw in him, the kind of confidence she'd been hoping to awaken. For a moment she felt proud, like the pride of a teacher for a successful student.  
But now he was doing something she did not foresee. As she had taught him a lesson in dominance, now he was teaching her a lesson in submission.

A warm, tingly glow formed on her ass, increasing with every slap. It traveled to her naughty bits, and she realized it was slowly making her lose her sense of struggle. "Oh god, am I enjoying this?" she wondered?  
Another slap came down, except lower this time, not just striking butt, but also partly grazing her engorged crotch. It struck a nerve of some kind, stimulating something deeper.  
She was definitely enjoying this.

She began to squirm, not in struggle, but in sheer arousal. She began to extend her ass, eagerly awaiting her next punishing slap, and cooed softly when that slap finally came. Put me in my place, she thought. I've done a lot of rotten things, she thought. I still need my punishment.  
A beautiful, blue, pearl-shaped tear formed on her eyelid, even though she tried to hold it back. Before long it was rolling down her cheek. Part of her truly believed it was that sharp, repetitive pain that caused it. But, then again, part of her knew better. Embarrassed, she quickly wiped her cheek on the floor below her, removing any trace of it.

Gracefully and swiftly, between slaps, his fingers slipped under her panties and pulled them down. He interrupted the discrete strikes with his palm by firmly kneading her posterior, relieving some of the pain. "Oh god, John," she moaned unintelligibly, "oh god that feels so-"  
PAP!  
An unexpected slap dashed her hopes for a soothing massage, and the stinging returned, fiercer than before. But also returning was a tingling caused by the strikes, and they crept lower and lower, towards her crotch. He was toying with her, and the thought of that only increased this prickly feeling, this euphoric numbness. She pushed out her ass, shivering, opening her mouth to let some of that arousal and frustration out but finding her vocal cords refusing to co-operate.

John paused and looked at his handiwork, having left a series of overlapping, hand-shaped, cerulean marks on her ass cheeks, indicators of his slaps, each mark a ground zero of pleasure, pain and justice. He wasn't sure what to think, if he could think at all. The bulge pushing against the fabric of his pants was doing all the thinking for him. His childlike shyness, uncertainty and insecurity were all still there, and he didn't feel any different than before. He just didn't act upon them. He pushed them to the back of the bus and let the more reckless emotions take the wheel, and even though it felt strange and not like his normal self, it felt good, and like a 'self' he could one day become.

Her ass was glowing hot under his hands. Once again he was massaging it, but Vriska was apprehensive, dreading another unexpected slap. Instead, his hands groped lower, and lower, squeezing and stroking their way to the area where her butt connected to her slender legs, and then, slowly inwards towards her seemingly burning crotch. They were going where she was begging them to go, closer and closer, but not quite there. She began to drop her guard, moving with the movements of his hands. Her head was positively glowing, her entire body seemed to blush, she breathed heavily, drooled a single thin strand of troll saliva and her eyelids twitched subtly. This was as vulnerable and shameful as he'd ever seen her, or anyone for that matter, and, John being John, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. Yet he knew this was both what she wanted and needed, so he bravely continued on. 

Her mound was the warmest place of all, soft and thoroughly saturated, and as the side of his index finger traced across it, she began to quiver as she pushed back against it. Without thinking and completely on autopilot, John slipped his finger inside of her, and she enthusiastically voiced her pleasure. It startled him a little bit, but not noticeably. Forcing his finger in and out, but at an agonizingly slow pace, he began to finger the tied-down, broken alien girl.

Vriska was in a state of despair. She finally felt the itch being scratched, so to say, after minutes of beating around the bush, but the way John did it only made it worse. He was doing what she desired, reaching into her, grazing his finger across all the right spots, probing, nudging and massaging. But the speed at which he did it made it more like torture than relief. She was being stimulated more directly than ever, driven dangerously close to the edge, but the pacing made it so she could not possibly go over it. But she desired it so. She started rocking her pelvis to try and speed up the process, pushing against his hand, all to no avail.

John started feeling the urge to talk dirty to her, but just imagining what that would look and sound like filled him with embarrassment. He'd fear the spell would be broken, so he abstained. But he knew just what he would want to say to her. Belittle her. Talk down to her. Torment her into admitting all kinds of awful, perverted and degenerate things she didn't actually do, but would confess to anyway, eagerly. But just imagining himself saying such things became too much, and he doubted she would be able to respond coherently. 

Her frustration became uncontrollable, and only served to further arouse her beyond all reason. Trying to form words, she could only utter sounds, adorable but animal-like vocalizations. John continued to slowly finger her, teasing her mercilessly, driving her crazy. Her edge was so close she could almost feel a sense of vertigo as she stared down over it into the abyss called "wild multiple orgasms". She was driven closer and closer until suddenly, and probably by accident, John's fingertip bumped into a particularly swollen and engorged nub. In an instant, she felt this nudge in slow-motion, feeling every detail of the texture of his fingerprint rubbing over it, and the force with which it pushed against her. Her hips bucked and she squirmed harder and longer than before, and with a plethora of little sounds she made her orgasm known. But John would not stop. Having found this weakness, he continued to pump in and out of her, only now purposefully aiming for whatever it was he had touched. Orgasm after orgasm gushed out of her as she tumbled down into the abyss, squirming turning to thrashing, little sounds turning to unrestrained moans and cries. Her entire body seemed to curl up, as she curled her fingers, toes, arms, back and neck.

Eventually she felt his finger slipping out, followed by a sense of falling. She wasn't conscious enough to realize what was going on just yet, as she struggled to lift herself from the ground and failing constantly, eventually just lying there, her white ghost-eyes rolling back under her half-closed eyelids, trembling like a girl electrocuted. Once the shock and aftershocks of her orgasms abated, she felt as if she was waking up from a deep sleep. Frightened by the sudden thought that this had all been a dream and afraid to find John missing for some reason, she sprung to life. As she regained consciousness it dawned on her that she was lying on top of John, who had apparently fallen back, fainted and drifted straight off to dreamland, all of his binding ropes and other imaginings vanished.  
The cause for this collapse became evident when she noticed John's pants wet with his own genetic material. However, she was not unsoiled either. Looking at his hand, the one that had pleasured her, she noticed it glowed brightly with her own genetic mucus, more than she'd ever seen before - although to John it would seem colorless and completely transparent, its color hiding outside of his silly human visible spectrum.  
Naked but for her black panties wrapped around her right ankle and the ruffled fairy-dress hiked high up over her chest, she rolled on her back, warm, exhausted and satisfied.

Embarrassed but happier than ever, she blushed as she started to straighten her dress, until she remembered the happy-thought-method and simply imagined some clean clothes on John and herself, and made the pool of shared genetic material they both lay in disappear, fixing up the messed-up room. Apart from the destroyed Subjugglator/Harlequin effigy on the floor, that is, which she simply banished altogether. The sight of that portrait of John's "Nanna" custodian on the wall, serenely looking over the two of them as she cleaned up, made her slightly uncomfortable, and the two quickly left the room.  
Still shaking a little, Vriska imagined John tucked into his bed, where he slept a long sleep. Although she did not feel tired in the least, she lay down next to him, embracing him.  
After what felt like hours, she wandered around the house some more, giddy with excitement over what had happened that day. The effigies in the living room had returned, of course, and John's "Nanna" was still on the wall, smiling approvingly. Vriska averted her gaze and made her way back outside, thinking perhaps she could 8reak her old record on the swing set. It was worth a try, anyway. 

Though she might once have been intimidated by the thought of eternity, this was not the case anymore. With such an exciting future ahead of them, eternity couldn't last long enough.


End file.
